


The Suitor

by LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife



Series: A New Start [7]
Category: Belgravia (TV)
Genre: (he's a man pushed to the edge!), 1840s London, Belonging, Class Differences, Friendship, Gen, Redemption, Servants, Serving Classes, Swearing, Victorian Philanthropy, Violence, below stairs, introducing 'Action Amos'!, victorian london
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife/pseuds/LastNightFanfictionSavedMyLife
Summary: It's a good job the Queensberry Rules haven't been invented yet...-A plan to boost his meagre pension fund and to give him a comfortable life after retirement has all gone terribly wrong for charismatic butler Turton! He's been given the old 'heave ho', kicked out on his ear with only the most basic of references. What is he going to do next?The lone wolf that is Amos Turton has to start all over again. Learning how to fit into this new, weird household is tricky when you're used to following your own rules. Within the confines of the rigid Victorian class system of course. Well, mostly... He's keeping quiet, biding his time and thinking of the money and his pension pot!Victorian London is really not a kind place for the serving classes and definitely not a good place to be destitute and poor. Which he is in danger of becoming...-Set in the Belgravia - TV Series and Book verse. All this takes place after episode 6 - the finale of the TV series - and after the book has finished.It is the early 1840s.-Alright Bambinos, please read and enjoy!
Series: A New Start [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014321
Comments: 2





	The Suitor

Lord Byerly was the youngest of seven sons born to the Duke of Kilmesteyn and his wife. There was no hope of him inheriting much with him being so far down the pecking order. He was marked for the army or the church. The first option he'd tried and botched. The second appealed even less to him, he'd stubbornly refused any attempts to place him in that profession. So, in his eyes, his only available options of staying wealthy were: to win big time at gambling; or to marry into wealth. Only fools or the desperate didn't know that the only winner, as far as gambling was concerned, was the bookie. Unfortunately, as he was a desperate fool, he had enthusiastically tried his hand at gambling, much to the anger and dismay of his father. Therefore, the only option left to him now, was marriage.

He had his sights firmly set on the unwed Lady Gisella Morgan, Countess of Beaufort. Well, mainly on her wealth. He'd been circling around her for the past month like a vulture that spotted a particularly tasty carcass to devour from on high. Visits, gifts, all the usual things that he thought mattered for courtship were showered upon her. He never bothered to ask her what _she_ had actually wanted.

During one of the household's regular, heated, late-night debates, where they would put the whole world to rights, they had jointly decided upon the most important gifts for having a happy marriage: love and respect. Neither of these were offered to Lady Morgan by Lord Byerly.

The Mistress had made it perfectly clear from the start that she wasn't even the slightest bit interested in him. But that didn't seem to stop the bull-headed idiot.

Mr Turton did some digging around. He then asked Mrs Brown to see if her 'associates' could elaborate on what he'd found and if they could find any more. The stories that they dug up and shared were not pleasant by anyone's reckoning. A long, distasteful list of misdeeds had piled up around their feet: three children born out of wedlock; a slew of gambling debts; an abundance of young female servants with tattered reputations, all of whom were left bewildered and broken in his wake. Not to mention that he'd had to buy out his army commission. There was a whiff of cowardice following him about regarding that. But it was difficult to pin down, and only confirmed if you asked certain people. Those being the non-commissioned and ranked men who'd served under him. The officers stuck together, and denied everything, as always. Without their testimony, this information was useless.

Then there were his clandestine visits to a certain notorious London establishment…

-

Lord Byerly decided that this particular morning would be the perfect morning for him to call upon the Morgan household. Again. Unluckily for him, but decidedly not so for her, Lady Morgan was out.

He roughly barged past Daisy when she'd opened the door to see who was calling, and then proceeded to make himself comfortable at the Lady Morgan's expense.

Daisy fled, running off to find Mr Turton. When she located him in his office, he swore profusely upon hearing what happened and who was waiting for his Mistress. He immediately stormed upstairs, with Daisy trailing along after him, having to run and jog to keep up with his determined strides.

Mr Turton had successfully managed to prevent such intrusions in the past when he'd answered the door himself. Often having to physically block the Lord's entry by standing in the doorway and not moving no matter how much the fool tried to push past. The Lord had shouted at him the last time, a spitting, raging, drink-fueled anger that would have wilted a lesser man. He'd threatened him with ruin, promised that he'd personally see him arrested and transported. Mr Turton got the feeling he'd garnered an enemy that morning. Not that it bothered him. He wasn't doing his job to make friends. But the blaggard had slipped past him today. He usually kept his visits to a pattern, weekend and Wednesday mornings which, as they'd found out, revolved around the very late opening hours of his favourite haunt. This meant that Mr Turton could make sure that he was near the door to answer it on those days. Today was a Friday, breaking from his usual regular visitations. Something must have happened. He wondered what that could be.

He'd told Daisy to wait by the door, to watch out for the Mistress, so that she could be warned of her 'delightful' visitor. Then he headed over to see what damage had been wrought in his short absence.

-

Mr Turton arrived at the drawing room to find Lord Byerly was leisurely strolling around its perimeter.

"I'm afraid Lady Morgan is out, my Lord," he announced.

"I know. The young chit that answered the door has already informed me. Where do you keep the drinks, the strong stuff, not the watered-down cheap wine that you served me last time?"

"My Lord," Mr Turton bowed and proceeded to a side cabinet, opening it to reveal several glittering crystal decanters. He poured a small glass of whiskey and handed it over to Lord Byerly who hovered nearby. Before he could close the cabinet, the Lord grabbed the decanter and continued with his travels around the room.

Mr Turton went to stand at the side. He carefully watched the despicable man as he continued with his slow inspection of all the ornaments. He often paused in his meanderings, to turn and throw a smirk towards Mr Turton. _What's his game?_ the perplexed butler thought. The Lord lingered over the large silver candelabra, the most expensive items in the room by far. _He's definitely up to something._ The Lord eventually grew bored and threw himself on the sofa, sprawling over it like he already owned the place. Mr Turton took all this in, keeping his face set to his long practiced neutral look, but inside he silently seethed as he tried to figure the man out. He was peeved that he was forced to stand and wait upon the Lord here, especially when there were so many other tasks he needed to spend his precious time on. But he dared not leave the Lord in the drawing room alone, knowing that another trinket would likely go missing if he was left to his own devices. A silver card case had 'disappeared' last time the obnoxious man was here.

"How long did you say she'd be?" the self-same ridiculous man asked.

"I didn't, my Lord. I said that Lady Morgan was out. I am unsure on the time of her return," he replied curtly. "You could come back another day, my Lord?" he added, knowing that the suggestion was pointless, as it would almost certainly be refused. But it would cost him nothing to try.

"No, I'm perfectly happy waiting here."

_Bloody buggering twat needs to just fuck right off!_ _And the sooner, the better!_ Mr Turton thought, keeping his eyes neutral, not letting his inner anger escape.

Lord Byerly looked at Mr Turton, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards and his eyes narrowing in a malicious fashion, he then turned back around and leaned forwards. _What is he playing at?_ Mr Turton thought as Lord Byerly poured himself another generous glass of whiskey from the decanter that he'd liberated from the side cabinet earlier. Mr Turton pressed his lips together tightly. He added 'drunkard' to the list of 'negatives' against the idiot man. _Are there actually any 'positives',_ he thought. _Could 'breathing' count as a positive?_ As that's all he could think of.

Both men stilled as they heard the main front door open and close, their heads snapped up in anticipation, both looking towards the living room door. They didn't have to wait long before it flew open. Mrs Morgan stopped, standing in the doorway. Mr Turton noted how her hand tightly gripped the door handle - the only outward sign of her distress.

"Lord Byerly. I hope you don't think I'm rude, but now is not the best time for you to visit as I've some pressing engagements elsewhere to attend to," she said briskly. She didn't move from the doorway. Mr Turton noted that she gripped the door handle so tightly, her knuckles turned white.

Lord Byerly again threw a smirk over at Mr Turton before swinging his attention back to Lady Morgan.

"Well, I've some equally pressing business to discuss with you, my dear," he said while he stood. "Do you know that you're harbouring a criminal?"

Lady Morgan drew in a sharp breath. Mr Turton didn't so much as twitch an eyelid in response. _Ah, so that's it then, he's found out about me,_ he thought.

Lord Byerly advanced upon him until they were toe to toe. Mr Turton didn't flinch, even though he wanted to turn away from the man's disgusting alcohol-laden breath.

"Did you know that this treasonous wretch here," he said while a wide triumphant smile was revealed, "sold secrets and goods from his previous employers?" he punctuated each word with a sharp prod to the other man's chest as his eyes lit up with glee.

Mr Turton still didn't move. He wouldn't give the vile man the satisfaction of seeing him react to this violent provocation.

"Yes," replied Lady Morgan, "I am aware. No charges were made, so he is most definitely not a criminal!" she shouted as she rushed over towards both men. "I must insist that you refrain from accusing my staff and that you leave my house this very instant!" she added vehemently.

"I'll only leave after I've thrown this one back into the gutter where he belongs!" Lord Byerly grabbed two fistfuls of the front of Mr Turton's coat. Still, Mr Turton's face didn't move, he just looked at the idiot Lordling, his face set to neutral. He could do this all day; he'd done exactly so several times in the past and knew that the best way to get rid of a bullying upper class cretin was to not give him the reaction he craved. They usually got bored with him and instead took out their violent frustrations by decimating the poor local wildlife.

Lady Morgan grabbed Lord Byerly's arm. She pulled at him, trying to get him to release his grip from her butler.

"Leave him be!" she shouted. Lord Byerly jerked his arm, trying to shake her grip on him off. His elbow slammed bluntly into her face. She fell back, stopping herself from falling to the floor by catching hold of the fire mantle to the side of her. She moved her hands in front of her, cupping her face, then pulled them away slowly, revealing a swollen bleeding lip and bloody hands. Both men watched silently. Lord Byerly released his hold on Mr Turton and took a step back, unsure of what to do next. His eyes widened and his mouth became a shocked 'o'. He took a hesitant step towards Mrs Morgan.

"Gisella… it was an accident… I didn't mean…"

She took a step back and cut off his sentence.

"Get out!" she hissed. "Mr Turton, would you please make him leave," she said as she turned tear filled eyes towards her butler.

Mr Turton and Lord Byerly exchanged glances. Mr Turton's face was red with anger, his lips pressed together tightly, and his eyes narrowed. He was livid. _How dare the man!_ He couldn't ignore his actions any longer. His patient stoic stance had not worked. It had only resulted in his Mistress becoming a victim of the Lord's violence. _I should have acted sooner, just ejecting the man from the house as soon as he arrived. I'm a stupid stubborn fool!_ he accused himself. _My reliance on old tactics has caused her to be hurt!_ He stepped towards the errant Lord, intending to drag him out of the house as his Lady had ordered. Lord Byerly was forced to back away, hands held out in front of him, in the face of such anger. Mr Turton advanced on his prey; his face promised dire consequences for failure to obey Lady Morgan's order. His brow furrowed, his lips pressed together, his eyes flashed – a vision of rage.

Lord Byerly changed tack. Stopping his backwards flee and taking a stand. Mr Turton paused his advance. _Let's see what he tries now,_ he thought.

The Lord flung a pitiful excuse for a punch at him. The poorly aimed blow was one that Mr Turton easily ducked away from. _Excellent!_ he thought. His look changed, his brow was still furrowed, his eyes still glinted with anger, but his mouth transformed, altering from an angry pressing of lips to a tooth baring, lupine smile.

The first punch landed squarely on the side of the Lord's stupid face, taking him by surprise and sending him staggering a short step backwards.

All the hated hours of training that the young Amos Turton was forced to endure from his stern father had, at last, paid off. His father had not wanted a weakling son who couldn't defend himself. Muscle memory of countless despised lessons took over.

His next punch, aimed lower, was a blow to his opponent’s guts, bending him over. The third hit landed under his chin, a perfectly landed uppercut, sending the Lord flying backwards tumbling over the back of the sofa, and crashing into the table that held the decanter.

Mr Turton unclenched his fists and flexed his fingers, his anger dissipating with each outward stretch of his digits. Truthfully, he loathed having to resort to brutish violence like this, but he felt justified in its use this time. The man had inflicted pain; he was owed some back. He pulled his waistcoat down sharply, straightening his attire, his calm restored. Then he stalked over to where the stunned Lord was lying among the remnants of the table. He leant over him and dragged him back up by his jacket lapels, forcing the Lord to scrabble upright. Mr Turton pulled the now struggling, but temporarily stunned Lord out of the living room, along the hallway, towards the front door.

Daisy, who had been watching in horror from the doorway, jumped out of the way as Mr Turton and Lord Byerly advanced towards her. She fled towards Lady Morgan who had followed after the two struggling men. Daisy grabbed the Lady's hand and stuck close behind her.

Lord Byerly wrested himself free in the hallway and turned to face his attacker.

"I'll have you arrested for assault!" he shouted and spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor at Mr Turton's feet, marring his ever-shiny shoes.

Mr Turton smiled back. A smile that did not reach his eyes, but was all sharp teeth, promising much wickedness.

"You do that my Lord, and I'll let the police know all about your shady dealings during your visits to certain, ah... infamous London establishments," he spoke very clearly and quietly.

Lord Byerly paused. You could almost hear the cogs changing gear in his head, thinking of something else he could use to his advantage.

"I can see what's going on here," he smirked at Mr Turton and then turned to Lady Morgan. "You need to find yourself a real man, Gisella. There's no need to resort to pleasuring yourself with the god-damn butler!" he spat again.

"He's twice the man you'll ever be!" she shouted, advancing on the two men, placing herself between them. "Now please leave before I call the police and have YOU arrested for assault, on ME!"

"You can't do that to me!" he leaned in towards Lady Morgan menacingly and grabbed her arms.

"She won't need to, because I will for her!"

The Lord turned angrily towards Mr Turton, suddenly releasing his grip on Lady Morgan. Mr Turton firmly shoved Lady Morgan out of the way behind him. Lord Byerly took advantage of the other man's brief lack of attention, taking his opponent by surprise, and landing a hit to the side of his face. But that only served to further anger the already furious butler. His anger was fuelled further as he could hear his father's livid voice shouting in his head. Loudly shaming him for being distracted and stupidly allowing an opponent the opportunity to hit him. Mr Turton clenched his fists tighter. He came at the Lord like a dervish, landing several punches on his smug, smarmy face in short succession. The short-lived brawl ended when Lord Byerly fell to the floor with Mr Turton standing over him, bloody fists clenched, sending a menacing glower down at him. Rage dripped from him, echoing his bloody knuckles.

Lady Morgan stepped in front of Mr Turton, gently placing a hand on his chest as she looked up at him.

"Please. Stop. That's enough," she said quietly.

He nodded, unable to speak through his panting breath.

She turned back towards Lord Byerly. "You would do well to leave. Right now," she said firmly.

Daisy ran and opened the door. Mr Turton took a menacing step towards Lord Byerly. The Lord backed away and ran down the steps, hailing a cab as he ran down the street.

"I'll go fetch Mrs B!" Daisy said and rushed off towards the kitchen.

Lady Morgan slowly closed the front door. She leaned back against it and closed her eyes for several seconds, collecting herself, before opening her eyes again and addressing her Butler.

"Thank you, Mr Turton… Amos," she said quietly, trying to smile but flinching and sucking in a breath as her lip pained her.

He nodded, finally unclenching his fists, flexing his fingers again to relieve the tension there. He let out a long, slow exhalation. The rage dissipating with that lengthy outward breath.

"It was nothing, my Lady" he said.

He approached her and handed over a handkerchief to her, which she took and held up to her mouth. She pulled it away, and they both noted that the white handkerchief had turned a bright scarlet. Mr Turton frowned.

"It was my error in judgement that caused all this… for not throwing him out as soon as he arrived… for expecting him to get bored with taunting me. My lapses caused him to hurt you," he reached a hand up to touch a finger to her bloodied lip. She flinched.

"Sorry!" he said, pulling his hand back sharply as if he'd been stung.

"It's done now. Pointless thinking on what could have been," she said, her gentle voice a soft balm to his regrets. "He's gone. And I'll wager he'll not return," her hurt lip caused her to alter her smile, so she looked up at him crookedly.

He nodded, content that she didn't blame him, even if he still did.

She reached down to place a hand on his forearm, squeezing it, reassuring him, letting him know again that he'd done no wrong, hoping that he wouldn't hold onto his unwarranted feeling of blame.

"Come on, we'd best get to the kitchen and let Mrs Brown patch us up."

She turned to lead the way down through the labyrinth to the kitchen. He followed along, back to his normal calm self. His knuckles throbbed as the adrenaline had now all but vanished. He reached up and touched his face gingerly, but he pulled his hand away, flinching and sucking in a breath when his fingers pressed at a sore spot. _I'll have a nice black eye later_ , he thought, miserable at the idea of his face being thus marred. He frowned at a resurfaced dismal memory - his father would have beaten him soundly for his error, for dropping his guard and allowing his opponent to land a hit. But the frown was chased away by the knowledge that he'd protected his Mistress and chased the idiot Lordling away, hopefully for good. He wondered what his father would make of that!

They met Daisy and Mrs Brown along the way.

"Oh Lord! Daisy said there'd been a fight, I didn't believe her. But judging by the state of you Mr Turton, I can see she's right!" she then looked at Lady Morgan. "What the hell happened?" she exclaimed.

"Lord Byerly," Turton growled.

"That good for nothing fucker, excusing my language please," she motioned back the way she'd come. "Come on loves, back to the kitchen so I can patch you both up," she said, "and you can tell me all about it. I'm assuming he's gone now?" she asked.

"Oh yes, he's gone alright! And I'd hazard a guess that he won't be coming back in a hurry!" Mr Turton said, evil intent towards Lord Byerly lit up his face, narrowing his eyes. The darkening bruise upon his cheek, and his swollen eye made his grin seem thoroughly roguish and wicked. Mrs Brown chuckled.

"Hopefully he's got the message, thanks to Mr Turton here," Mrs Morgan threw a grateful smile towards him.

-

Mr Turton vowed to vet, discreetly of course, any suitors from then onwards, before ever letting them in the house or anywhere near Lady Morgan's person. Word of Lord Byerly's dramatic ejection from the house must have spread though as there was no one for him to vet for a good long while. _Perfect!_ he thought.


End file.
